


the dance of eternity

by kalypsobean



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-09 00:25:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5518565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalypsobean/pseuds/kalypsobean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fëanor was pleased that his sons were loyal, if nothing else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the dance of eternity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Elvewen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elvewen/gifts).



The oldest were the ones who cleaved closest to Fëanor, perhaps as they had spent the longest with him, or as they were the ones who had no reason to be drawn away. They were, too, the ones who shared his fate: eternity, in their quest, doomed always to fail.

 

Maedhros knew as he swore that it would be the end of him. He had nobody to keep him back or counsel restraint, and he had always wanted to travel, the confines of Tirion too small to hold him at peace. He did not desire vengeance, not as his father did; the world owed him its secrets, and he would find them as he found the jewels. Then, Fëanor would love him, and he would not always feel as if he was not enough, a disappointment for considering peace when war was promised only to persuade the unwilling and wise.

 

Maglor had been enchanted by the Jewels, though his gift lay in barditry. He would tell himself that he went only to tell his brothers' story, but he desired the Jewels above all else, for they were beyond description and themselves sang stories of the world. He would listen to their silent song for an Age of the World, if it were to be possible again, and tell it to those unable to hear it for themselves, until all the Elves knew it in their hearts. In that, he sought the Jewels only for himself, and set against his father.

 

Fëanor was pleased that his sons were loyal, if nothing else. With them at his side, he felt as if it would be impossible for him to fall. Between them they would scour the world, and their success would reflect on him, and be his. There would be none to stand in his way, and his victory would be shared with those closest to him, his affection and grace doled out piece by piece until they all loved him, his daughters and their children, and their children, and his descendants would rule in his stead, leaving him free to roam.

 

It was not to be; the great dreams of Elves and Men never come to pass as they are formed, and the greatest of them all should fall before rising, so that they can lift those around them up as high. Instead, Fëanor lifted the world, and it crushed him.


End file.
